


with sugar

by maureenbrown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, College, F/F, Femslash, Modern Era, ginmione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione reaches over as soon as her alarm starts to beep, blindly slapping around until she hits the snooze button, untangling her legs from the warm sheets surrounding her. </p><p>There’s an unwilling groan in the direction of her roommate, which means that her alarm woke her up, too. Her roommate’s name is Ginny Weasley, and she’s one of many children in her family. She’s feisty and very forward, flirting shamelessly with Hermione from across the table in the mornings and rambling about soccer in an endearing way all the way until midnight. Her red hair is “as flaming as she is,” and she’s always wearing jerseys. As lovely as she is, Hermione could do without her constant apparel strewn around the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with sugar

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @crankwinston

Hermione reaches over as soon as her alarm starts to beep, blindly slapping around until she hits the snooze button, untangling her legs from the warm sheets surrounding her. 

There’s an unwilling groan in the direction of her roommate, which means that her alarm woke her up, too. Her roommate’s name is Ginny Weasley, and she’s one of many children in her family. She’s feisty and very forward, flirting shamelessly with Hermione from across the table in the mornings and rambling about soccer in an endearing way all the way until midnight. Her red hair is “as flaming as she is,” and she’s always wearing jerseys. As lovely as she is, Hermione could do without her constant apparel strewn around the room.

“Sorry.” Hermione whispers across the room, getting only a grunt in return. Ginny isn’t an early riser, but so far she hasn’t really complained about Hermione’s early classes. 

Ginny sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes before blinking, her hair a frizzy mess. “It’s so not fair that you look good when you wake up, Hermione.” She mutters, her voice low since she just got up as Hermione gathers up her oversized sweater for the day, along with a mustard yellow jean skirt and brown tights. 

Hermione manages a snort, glancing over in her direction. Ginny lounges against the headboard of her bed, pushing her hair back away from her face. Through the dim light of the sun starting to rise, Hermione can barely make out her harried band t-shirt (probably a hand me down from one of her brother’s) that comes up to her thighs, and, per usual, she’s not wearing pants. 

They discussed the matter as soon as they both moved in, among other things. Ginny was more comfortable walking around in long shirts that didn’t reveal too much, which Hermione was fine with. She eventually adapted to the habit, and the two had which Ginny dubbed “no pants parties” where they watched movies on Ginny’s Netflix queue until Hermione forced them both to go to bed.

“Checking me out?” Ginny asks, snapping Hermione out of her stupor.

“You wish, Gin.” Hermione shoots back playfully, making sure her tone sounds affronted for old times’ sake. The first time Ginny aimed a promiscuous comment in her direction, she didn’t react accordingly.

“Maybe.” Ginny’s words slur together somewhat, and her tone is almost a drawl. It’s clear she’s only half-awake.

Hermione takes that as her cue to leave, setting her clothes down on her bed to rush over to the coffee maker, pressing the button to turn it on. She always grinds the beans at night, along with all the other steps, because she knows she’ll be too exhausted to do it in the morning.

Afterwards, she scoops her stuff back up and heads to the bathroom. She changes briskly, smoothing out the collar of her polo underneath her knitted sweater, running a brush through her curls and staring at herself in the reflection of the mirror. Her skin is dark, her brown hair combed back into a tiny ponytail, and she doesn’t bother putting on makeup. She’s a little pressed for time already. 

She gives her replication a smile before bustling out the door, rushing to the kitchen. She passes by their beds, and surprisingly, Ginny is devoid of hers. She must have pulled on some sweatpants and left down the hall to her best friend, Luna’s, dorm room. 

She runs to grab a to-go mug from one of the cupboards, snatching her favorite one and slamming it on the counter. She reaches for the coffee pot, blinking for a moment before her vision focuses. The pot appears to be empty save for a couple drops, and Hermione narrows her eyes. She did press ‘start,’ right?

She glances at the sink, only to find a used cup already there.

“Ginny…” She mutters somewhat menacingly, shaking her head. She’ll have to manage without coffee for one grueling day. 

…

Hermione comes back from her class, her eyes half-lidded as she stumbles into her bed. She flops down, her bag still wrapped around her shoulder as she buries her face in the pillows.

“Had a rough time in class?” Ginny asks, somewhere to her left. She must’ve been lounging in bed all day, her classes aren’t until nighttime. Sometimes Hermione thinks her roommate’s nocturnal.

“Yeah, actually. I didn’t have any coffee.” Hermione mumbles, her words too muffled to sound clipped.

“Oh, about that… It’s kind of bitter, actually. Is there any way you could buy sweeter coffee?” On top of it all, Ginny has the audacity to ask her to get better coffee?

Hermione lets out a guttural growl, shifting to face her roommate, who looks unruffled and smug. “Did you even bother to put sugar in it, Ginny?” She asks. She’s being serious, it’s no time for nicknames.

Ginny smirks at the nickname. “I love it when you say my name.” She responds, and Hermione practically screeches into her pillow.

“You’re not funny.” She mutters finally, flopping ungracefully so that she doesn’t have to see Ginny’s attractive, cocky expression anymore.

There’s a depression in the mattress next to her, and then a warm hand trails its way up and down her back, burning her through the sweater. “I know, Mione.”

As annoyed as she is, Hermione can’t help but feel the tension in her shoulders fading as Ginny leans over to situate herself before working her hands up on her back, forcing herself to arch it upwards. 

“I’m not going to get over you stealing my favorite drink that easily, you know.” Hermione speaks up after a moment, turning her head, her vision of Ginny somewhat hazy.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Ginny moves one of her hands to push one of Hermione’s curls away, tucking it behind her ear, the gesture sweet and surprisingly gentle.

“So, what’re you going to do for me?” Hermione asks, a tiny smile playing on her lips now.

Ginny stops her ministrations, her thumbs simply brushing lightly across the fabric of the knitted fabric now. “Hmm… Well, we could make out.” She offers nonchalantly, and Hermione can’t help but giggle at that.

“Maybe later. I’m not in the mood.” She shoots back teasingly, and Ginny picks up massaging her again.

Ginny makes a disappointed noise, followed by a laugh. “Alright, alright, fine. I’m holding you to that.” 

“Good.” Hermione replies, and she feels as if she’s sinking into the mattress underneath Ginny’s calloused, firm hands. She wonders if they could cradle her, hold her thighs or maybe wrap around her waist if they did kiss. She doesn’t seem opposed to the idea actually, she might like Ginny squeezing her curves or maybe the little bit of chub around her waist.

Ginny appears to be done, but she leans over to straddle Hermione’s waist, her legs tucked down. She’s still not wearing any sweatpants, so she either trekked down the hall bravely without it or ditched it and discarded it on her bed. She has a couple of scratches on her upper thighs, probably healed injuries from soccer. Hermione’s tempted to turn so she can hover above her.

Ginny reaches to push Hermione’s sweater to the side, revealing the strap of her bra, her warm fingertips padding along her skin. She remains tender, however, leaning over to press a couple kisses to her dark skin, her red hair tickling underneath Hermione’s chin. She can feel the way she smiles, the arc of her lips moving against her arm, parting to the feel of her teeth. 

“So… Can you make more coffee tomorrow?”

“With sugar?”

“With sugar.”


End file.
